


Magic Lesson

by Avanalae



Series: Dancing with Death [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dancing, Implied Relationships, M/M, Magic, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 05:38:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17595476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avanalae/pseuds/Avanalae
Summary: Harry's mind wanders, his teacher is considerate, but it's time to pay attention to the lesson.





	Magic Lesson

**Author's Note:**

> So this is kind of during a period of their relationship where they're not together, but they are quite friendly and familiar with each other. Harry is paying more attention to the being and Death is ever so patient.

The rhythm of the music tingles across his skin. The beat rattles his bones. Each measure is a breath of air.

It's odd how magic takes shape, sometimes. It can be found in the strangest of places.

A thread.

A breeze.

A song.

Harry had never considered the different facets of magic before he... well, before he died.

But upon his return he finds the touch of wind a soothing caress, hearing a whisper in the flow of a brook. The power of everyday objects call him to shape them, embrace them. He breathes power into shapes and figures, sharing a part of himself with them.

It's terrifying.

But he's handling it better now.

He's pulled sharply from his thoughts with a particularly difficult move. He manages to catch himself, only just barely keeping time.

Death locks their gazes, raising an eyebrow.

Harry feels a bit embarrassed. He didn't mean to get so distracted during a lesson.

Death slows the music and their pace with barely a thought. "Welcome back, Harry. I trust you are well?"

"Ah, yes. I apologize."

"No need," Death shakes his head. "You've been thinking quite a bit lately. I was only surprised that you did so at such a time."

Harry feels even more embarrassed at that.

"Shall we continue?"

Harry straightens his back and tightens his grip on Death as he nods.

"Alright." The music and their pace increase slowly until they're where they were before. "Now, this time instead of just feeling the magic building up in the music, in the steps you take, I want you to try and gather it."

"Gather..." Harry trails off.

"Reach for it, feel it, and wrap it up inside of you. Don't worry about holding onto it for long, that is a lesson for another time." Death always explains things so patiently to him. Pushing him but never overwhelming him. Harry truly appreciates it.

Harry does what he says. He closes his eyes, trusting Death to lead him well.

First he feels the magic whirling around them, seeming to billow up like dust beneath their feet with each step. It swirls and twists and Harry starts to worry how he could possibly grasp something so fluid and inconsistent.

But he tries. It doesn't work.

He tries and tries, but it doesn't work.

Just as he's starting to get frustrated, he feels Death pull him closer, his cool cheek brushing against his own in a gesture that helps Harry focus.

He takes a breath and tries looking at it from a different angle. Instead of trying to grab it, he could try to coax it, entice it into his grasp.

So he does. He reaches out his senses and touches the wild magic with his own, joining in the flow enough to try and lead it to a different path, one that leads to him.

It's difficult, it takes concentration, but he succeeds. He doesn't catch all of it, but there's a warm ball of the new magic in him, and Harry breathes a sigh of contentment.

A different power reaches out to him and conveys a sense of pride as it brushes like a hand against the cheek Death had touched earlier.

Harry opens his eyes to the sight of Death smiling softly. There's something in his eyes, something warm and inviting but Harry blinks and it's gone, Death looking at him with the familiar contentment and welcome pride.

They slow to a stop as he lets go of the magic, unsure how to hold onto it. Death runs a hand through Harry's hair. "Excellent job, Harry."

Harry smiles widely, not unused to compliments and praise from the being yet still he feels that rush of happiness and pride when it happens.

And the little touches make his heart race, but he pushes that aside.

"That's enough for today. Tomorrow we'll try again."

Harry nods and with an unnecessary wave of his hand, Death cleans Harry of the little sweat he managed to accumulate.

That's another thing.

Death's power.

Harry of course never considered these things in life, but he imagines that if he's thought about it he would have claimed that if the being existed, their magic would be cold, like ice. He'd thought that in the beginning, when with their first touch Harry felt the chill of Death's skin.

But unlike his skin, his magic is warm. It's the warm breeze of a summer's day, the tingle of sun against his skin. It soothes and comforts him.

Another mystery, one Harry is sure he'll figure out if he doesn't just end up asking Death.

There's no rush.


End file.
